


Overindulgence

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a problem getting Mixmaster motivated for battle when he's had a 'big night' with his own concoctions.</p><p>*Warnings* for drug use and abuse.</p><p>For eaten_by_bears</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overindulgence

 “D-d-d-dinobots?? I l-love d-d-dinobots. “Mixmaster giggled. “Hey – I’ve g-g-got an idea! Let’s all go capture a d-dinobot! We can keep them as p-p-p-pets!”

He collapsed back, laughing so hard that his optics became slits and then were not visible at all. The empty cube fell from his hand to land on the settee beside him.  “S-s-sounds c-c-c-cool!” He cackled.

Scrapper’s face grew stern. He moved to stand over the other Constructicon. “Now pay attention, Mixmaster!” he barked. “The objective isn’t to get them for pets, it is to destroy them. We need to form Devastator and destroy them. _Do you understand?”_

Mixmaster squinted up at him. “Well sure, m-m-m-mech” He cackled. “W-why n-n-not? Love d-d-d- _devstater!”_   One end of the mixing barrel gleamed over his shoulder. A strong aroma of chemicals wafted from his person.

Hook rolled his optics. He looked at the coffee table, a sea of flasks, cubes and expended rust stick trays. A small human TV, nestling among the debris, showed ‘cartoons’ as the humans called them, but the sound was turned down so the talking coloured animals were silent. Beside it lay an empty cube; the contents had dripped down to make a sticky pool on the floor below.

Hook shook his head. Primus only knew exactly how much Mixmaster had been indulging, and in what. Hook had told Scrapper they shouldn’t have left him to his own devices; that there was a reason the chemist had made an excuse not to join them to stake out the sight for the new base; that the medication that he'd said he'd made because he ‘wasn’t feeling the best’ wasn't of the nature implied.

“Now you listen to me – this is very important, Mixmaster!” Scrapper was saying. “The Autobots have a new device called Metroplex. We have to destroy the Dinobots, then attack it. Megatron is depending on this.”

Mixmaster squinted again. “M-m-mega _who?”_ he giggled.

Scrapper went to speak, but Hook broke in. “It’s no use, Scrapper,” he said. “We’re wasting our time. Much as it irks me to say this, I really do think we should ask the Combaticons to go instead.”

But at that, Scrapper bristled. “If you think I’m admitting to Onslaught that the Constructicons aren’t up to this, then think again, Hook!” he snapped. He turned back to the chemist. “Now Mixmaster, Listen to me. I am your _leader._ I _order_ you to pull yourself together …”

But Mixmaster slumped in the chair, only laughing some more. “Naahh – I agree with him!” he pointed a wavery finger at Hook. “Ask the Com-com- combat. Say …” he squinted up at them. “What’d ya call em?”

Grasping Scrapper’s arm, Hook pulled him gently to one side. “Give it up!” he whispered.

“Can’t you give him a stimulant or something?” Scrapper hissed.

“Without knowing exactly what’s in those concoctions, I can’t risk it,” Hook said. “It might make it worse. If he goes out there like that all revved up, then Devastator will be almost impossible to coordinate.”

“Well what are we gonna do? I _can’t_ ask Onslaught. Or Motormaster. I just – _won’t!”_

Hook regarded him sternly. “Do it – just this once. We’ll offer the Combaticons and Stunticons a load of that _stuff ..”_ he indicated to the table, “whatever it is. I’d hazard a guess at least some of their number won't be able to resist. Then they won’t be in a fit state either, and by that stage Mixmaster will hopefully have recovered. We can do the job and take all the credit, and they'll be labelled drunken idiots.”

A snore made them look back at the settee. Mixmaster’s head was slumped on his chest. Evidently, it was suddenly all too much.

Scrapper sighed. “I guess if I’m realistic we don’t have an option,” he said. He smiled, firmly. “I accept your strategy, Hook! We must think positively.”

“Good …” Hook removed his hand. “Might I suggest that we tell Scavenger to get Swindle over here immediately,” he said. “He has proved rather adept …” the crane's face crinkled in amusement, “at marketing Mix’s substances.”

Scrapper nodded. “Yes, indeed. Good idea!” he said. 


End file.
